White Fire
Wind-gnawed ice.
Bird-tracks tattoo creaking water
with glittering scratches.
Ash trees stretch charred boughs
in the smoking chill.
A blind brook, in mid-stride
takes leave of its purpose,
signs falter
on frozen ground.
The sky is too brittle,
frost too searing a lick
on warm breath.
Crow black wings
against a pale sunlight,
long unthawing silhouettes
fuming to white.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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